Another lighted room grew out of the tunnel on the screen, and when they had flickered through it, another and then another.
"Mr. Snader," Ann said unsteadily, "how long—how many years back are you taking us?"
Snader was humming to himself. "Six years. Station 725 fine place to stop."
For a little while, Jeff let himself think it might be true. "Six years ago, your dad was alive," he mused to Ann. "If this should somehow be real, we could see him again."
"We could if we went to our house. He lived with us then, remember? Would we see ourselves, six years younger? Or would—"
Snader took Jeff's arm and pulled him to his feet. The screen was moving through a room numbered 724.
"Soon now," Snader grunted happily. "Then no more questions."
He took an arm of each as he had before. When the screen was filled by a room with the number 725, he propelled them forward into it.
